


Wasting My Young Years

by katnisseverdennys



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnisseverdennys/pseuds/katnisseverdennys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blood pours from my wound, and I hiss when he applies the medicine onto it. He stares at me as he presses harder into my arm. 'You should have been more careful,' He says softly. 'You're too reckless.' I am quiet for a few moments, before I finally give him an answer. 'I'm always reckless around you. I can never stop.'" Everlark AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wasting

“I’m hungry.”

“I know Prim.”

Prim shuffles her feet along the forest floor and I cringe. We have to be as quiet as possible. I creep quietly, ducking behind a large rotting tree. The smell of corpses reached my nose and I struggled to not gag. Prim shot me an understanding look, and pulled up the handkerchief around my neck to cover my nose and mouth, and quickly placed her own around her face. She pulls out her knife while I reach around to pull out an arrow. 

“How many?” I whisper.

“About three or four, we could take them.” 

“It sounded like more.”

“Wait…it may be a herd.” 

Both of our minds start to go into overdrive. We could take on three, but not an entire crowd of these things. We need an escape, but the only place we could go is where we came from, and then we would run into the few eaters we had managed to escape earlier. I looked up at the tree to see how much weight it could hold. There was a thick heavy branch that could maybe hold both of our weight. The groaning became louder all around us and I whipped my head towards Prim.

“Leave the backpacks at the bottom.” We both start to take off our backpacks. Mine was heavier then hers, carrying supplies, knives and whatever canned foods we could salvage. Prim’s lily pink drawstring pack held our other freshly laundered pair of clothes and our most prized possessions, a photo album and our father’s plant book.

“Climb the tree, now.” She nodded at me and reached up to climb. I stood watch while she found her footing, an arrow at the ready. A loud growling suddenly came from my right and a gruesome looking Eater with half of its face eroded lunged at my arm, and I just narrowly dodged it. It grabbed hold of my hand while I tried my hardest to pull away. I threw my bow to the ground and stabbed the Eater with my arrow in the head, quickly pulling it out. I briefly hear Prim yell for me to look behind, but all I can hear is the loud groaning. I pivot on my foot, and stab another in the head, watching for the other one shuffling towards me. I could see the outline of ten, fifteen, twenty of the Eaters coming from behind the trees. 

The one closest to me lunged and I quickly stabbed it, but my arrow became stuck. I stepped back and I felt another tree block my escape. I reached around my back to grab a handful of the crude homemade arrows I had been making along with my real ones. Another Eater stumbled towards me and I dug the arrow into the middle of its forehead. They were closing in on me as I attempted to take control of the front of the pack. My breathing was labored, filled with anxiety. This is how I would die, and there would be no one to protect my Prim. The herd started to close in on me, and my bow was three feet away from me. All I had were the arrows in my quiver and in my hand. I had to go down fighting. As I stepped closer to the crowd, all of them lunging at me, the Eaters in the back were being killed at an alarming rate. I could not see Prim in the tree any longer. “Prim! Prim!” I cry out. An Eater was close to biting me and I knocked it the ground, its rotting blood spewing onto my face. I stab it quickly, but I am knocked to the ground by another Eater. Its half rotted face growling at me, trying to rip into me, drooling whatever remnants had remained from its last victim onto my face. I keep my mouth shut tight, just in case any of the drool drips into my mouth. I can’t afford to die from a drool infection. I struggle with it for about a minute, trying to keep its drooling mouth from biting into my neck while attempting to hit a blow in its head before it is shot in the skull, blowing blood all over me. Its limp, heavy body stops me from getting up. I could see no more Eaters, dead bodies covering the forest floor. The Eater on top of me was suddenly removed, allowing me to breathe freely. I quickly wipe off the drool from the Eater before it can reach my cracked lips. I took a long deep breath before sighing in relief. My head rests on the back bone of another dead body, and I turned to look at its face. 

The woman it used to be must have been beautiful before she was turned into this monster. Her blonde hair was now the color of dirty blood and soot, her cheekbones exposing bone and threads of tissue, the maggots going in and out between what was left of her rotten teeth, her eyes bloodshot and insane with primal hunger. 

She reminds me of our mother.

“Katniss! Katniss you’re okay!” I am knocked out of my reverie, and a little body crashes into me and gives me kisses all over my face. I hug her tightly, not willing to let go. 

“Are you alright?” A voice interrupts us. Prim unleashes her tight hold on me, beaming towards our saviors. Three tall blonde men circle us, and Prim helps me to my feet. They still towered over our tiny frames, and my instinct hugged Prim to me, showing these men that they should leave us alone now.

“Yes. We’re fine. Thank you.” I glare at them, willing them to go away. They all look like brothers, the same jaw, the same eyes. The first one looked the hardest, his thick beard covering most of his face, his eyes scanning the both of us, and flickering towards the arrows still clenched tightly in my fist. The second tallest looked neutral, putting in more ammunition into his heavy looking gun. The smaller one, the stockiest out of the three, looked expectant, his eyes looking into mine, searching for something. Weakness? Perhaps. I may already have exposed my weakness to these strange men, hugging Prim to my chest so quickly. His dark blue eyes held emotion, compassion even.

“I’m Peeta Mellark. These are my brothers, Leo and Marcus.” He motioned towards them. The one with the gun grunted slightly. “Do you have a camp somewhere?”

I start to say yes, but Prim blurts out “No!”

“Prim!” I hiss. She looks up at me, confused.

“Well you could come with us. We have food and shelter, and there are other people there too.” Peeta says. 

“I don’t think so. We’re doing fine on our own.” Prim glares at me and pulls me aside. 

“Katniss we are not doing fine! You almost died!” 

“We can give you a few minutes if you need to think it over.” The one with the beard says quietly. It unnerves me as I take Prim’s hand and walk over to the tree, aware of their stares behind us.

“We don’t know if we can trust these men, Prim! They could be saying anything just to get us to come with them! Do you want this to be Snow’s Camp again?” She blanches at the thought and is quiet for a minute. “Prim, I know we’re not doing so great right now, but no one is. You’re only thirteen, and you don’t have a mean bone in your body,” I try to reason. “But there are bad people out there, and we simply don’t know if we can trust them. I can’t bear to see you hurt, not after what Snow tried to do.” Her wide eyes flicker back between them and me, trying to come up with an argument. I look towards them too, watching them as they huddle together, discussing something. Probably how they’ll rape and leave us for dead, waiting to turn into those gruesome monsters that roam the forests and roads. Prim sighs heavily and starts to tear up. 

“Katniss, please. They have food and clothing and shelter!”

“We don’t know that!”

“Winter is just in a couple of months, and we barely survived last year’s snowfall. And why would they go so far to save us from a mini herd?” I know in my mind that she’s right. There is no way we could survive this year’s winter, especially with so little food. Prim had lost every ounce of baby fat she had within the first 6 months of the End, and I knew I didn’t look much better. I sigh deeply, and push Prim’s braid behind her shoulder. She is so much shorter than me, and I can’t sacrifice her health. 

“Fine, but if I sense anything strange going on in this camp of theirs, we are booking it. Do you hear me?” I whisper. Prim smiles with her teeth, and hugs me tightly and runs over to grab our bags. I walk over to pick up my bow and whatever arrows I could not remove during the fight. A heavy footed boy comes up behind me and helps me remove a stuck arrow. 

“Your sister told us you’ve decided to come with us.” Peeta has a nice voice. Soft, soothing of any fears. I turn my eyes up towards him. He couldn’t be any older than me, maybe by a couple of years from looking at his face. His strong jaw was peppered with little stubble, like Dad’s when he didn’t shave after a couple of days, but it was so blonde I could hardly tell it was there. His lips curved upwards and had the color of fresh strawberries. I haven’t had strawberries in such a long time. 

He’s drawing me in.

“Yes, but let’s make one thing clear,” I catch his attention, and he quirks one eyebrow. “If you, your brothers, or anyone from your so called camp are up to no good, I have no problem with killing the living.” His face relaxes, and he smiles gently at me as if he understood. 

“The same goes for you.”

***

“Prim, what’s your favorite color?” Marcus asks. Marcus was the oldest of the Mellark brothers, I had found out. Their father owned a bakery before the End had started, and worked there as children up into their college years. His beard and strong gaze would not give people the impression that he was supposedly a soft hearted baker inside. Leo, the middle brother liked to make jokes, and constantly made Prim laugh. They had all been playing this get to know each game for a couple of hours now. I was mostly silent throughout the trek, coming up in the back, watching for any suspicious movements between the trees and in front of me. I stayed in the back to make sure the brothers wouldn’t try anything. I’ve started to relax now, but I still kept a small hunting knife in my hand, most of it hidden up into my jacket sleeve.

“Yellow, like sunshine. My dad said when I was born that I looked like sunshine, so he named me Primrose.” She giggles. 

“A fitting name. How about you Katniss? What’s your favorite color?” Marcus asks me. Peeta smiles at me, and I become nervous for some reason. He’s using a large stick to climb with on this steep hill and mostly through-out our journey. I noticed his limp when we first left the area where they found us. It was prominent, but not enough to slow us down any.

“I like green.” I mumble. Leo barks a laugh out. 

“I bet you’ve seen enough green to last you a lifetime out here, huh?” I smile bitterly, because it was the exact truth. 

“We’re coming up to the camp soon, and we can get you girls some real food. How does that sound?” Prim is beaming, and it makes me smile too. We haven’t had a real meal since about a year ago, when our dad was still around. I feel my smile go down with the thought of him. I didn’t want to think about dad anymore. It was too painful. 

The End had come suddenly. The week it had started was when Prim had finally gotten an A on her math test, the one she studied for so much, and Dad splurged on getting reservations to a nice restaurant for my parents anniversary. When the illness began, many people thought it was some sort of flu at first, probably some traveler who caught it coming back from a disease ravaged country. When it started to spread rapidly, more people became panicked, conspiracy theories that it was biological terrorism. We were told to stay inside our houses, to not open the doors if someone knocked, to absolutely stay away from the things walking down our street, looking for fresh meat. Prim was wracked with grief every time we told her we couldn’t help the poor person who was being attacked our street, on our lawn. After four weeks of chaos, the military was finally sent in.

They didn’t do shit.

Mom had been quarantined at the hospital she worked at as a nurse during the fourth week of the outbreak. There were so many infected by that time that she and the other nurses and doctors didn’t know what to do, how to leave the premises when there were so many people who had been bitten. She and three other nurses locked themselves into a patients room when a hallway had been overrun with infected Eaters. In there was a phone, and she would call us whenever the power stayed on long enough. Prim and I cried every day of her being away from us. My father would never show it, but at night, when we all crammed ourselves into a bed together, he would cry too. 

When the military finally came to the hospital’s aid, they put the infected down first. She had been on the phone with us when they burst through the door, and my mother told us they were going to save her, bring her home. 

All we heard was bullets and screaming.

I’m brought back to the present, where I’m walking behind three strange men and my innocent little sister, being brought to our new home. I wiped away any stray tears that had slipped out as a result of the memories that haunted me. I feel eyes on me, and I look up to see Peeta looking at me, concerned. He raises an eyebrow, and mouths “You okay?” to me. I nod my head and look down, gripping my small knife even tighter. I appreciate his quietness about my sudden tears, but I am still weary of his intentions. I have yet again shown that I have a weak spot, and I kick myself on the inside.

We walk for about ten minutes more before we break out of the trees and into the last rays of the sunlight, illuminating a large, three story house in the corner of a large field. The grass was ankle length, with beetles and ants scurrying away from our footsteps. Surrounding the house was a variety of cars, a few of them with the hoods popped open, various wires running through. A semi-truck made to transport cars from one place to another was about ten feet from the house. The house itself was dilapidated to where the shutters were falling off, and the bottom windows were boarded up with rotting wood. On the side of the house in red graffiti was sprayed “STAY AWAY”.

“How…did you find this?” I stutter. I’m speechless. 

I don’t know how long Peeta’s group had survived out here. They could have been set up here from the beginning. To find such a safe haven must have taken months. I start to object when Prim starts to bound off towards the house, Leo and Marcus following close behind. She turns around while walking quickly and flashes me a sign that I know she has a small weapon on her. I nod and allow her to continue. She grins and starts running towards the front porch. I know she needs some degree of freedom and grow into her own, but I need to make sure she understands the dangers of our new world. I start to walk slowly towards the house, Peeta keeping pace with me despite his limp.

“Our group just wandered for a while, but that was too dangerous. We were constantly having…accidents. That’s when our leaders had us actively looking for an actual place to live. Between the zombies and the pillaging humans, we needed somewhere stable. It’s the only way to survive.” He says. I am only half listening to his answer, mostly just for his soft voice. He pushes back his hair a lot. Peeta’s hair was a mix of straight and wavy, like the soft, clear currents of the creek we passed. 

“I didn’t think anyone called them zombies.” I laugh slightly. It feels off, wrong somehow to laugh now. 

“Isn’t that what they’re called?” Peeta laughs. He has a nice laugh.

“Prim was always scared by zombies when she was little. When this whole thing started, she was just eleven, so me and my dad started to call them Eaters, which honestly is scarier to me.” I offer. Peeta laughs whole heartedly. 

“I wish my brothers cared about me that much. I was seventeen when this whole place went to shit.” I laugh a little again. I haven’t laughed much in these past two years, so I was confused as to why I was laughing so much now. Maybe I was just humoring him. Yes, that’s it. 

“And who is this young lady, Peeta? I thought we told you to pick up pinewood for the stove in the woods, not pretty girls.” I scowl at this statement and glare at the man who said it. Peeta laughs again. The man who comes into view is tall, and very handsome. I bet Prim has already swooned if she saw his bright smile and freckled nose. His wild auburn hair came down messily onto his forehead, and I was admittedly distracted by the dimple on the right side of his mouth. I remember the knife in my hand, hidden by my sleeve, and I start to slip it out a little more, just in case.

“Finnick.” He stuck his hand out towards me, and I firmly took it.

“Katniss.”

“Are you a good shot?” He points to my bow.

“I’m decent.” I reply shortly. My talents with a bow do not need to be known. He laughs a little, a half grin on his face.

“You don’t talk much.” I don’t answer.

“Was that hyper little blonde your sister? You both look very much a like, but I like older girls anyways.” He winks. I squint my eyes at him. I’m not too taken with Finnick. Peeta chuckles behind me a little, and moves to give Finnick a hand with some of the jump cables in one of the cars. “You can go inside if you want, just try not to wake up Haymitch.” Finnick shouts out.

“Who the hell is that?” I grumble.

“Our village drunk. He’s probably sleeping on the table with his favorite bottle of moonshine.” Finnick looks up at me. “He might be awake however. Don’t be scared of him though. Just go ahead and introduce yourself to some of the group. Oh, and ask for Annie! She’ll feed you something besides whatever leaves you’ve been chewing on.” He grins, and the thought of food makes my stomach growl. I don’t care about new people, the food was too distracting. I leave Finnick and Peeta to their own devices and wander off to the front of the house. The porch’s white paint was peeling off, little splatters of old, faded blood speckled everywhere. The door had more graffiti on it, but it was hard to make out. The golden door knob was half hanging off, and for a moment I thought about knocking instead. I dispel the thought and jingle the knob a little bit, shoving it back inside and turning towards the right. The door opened slightly, and I could hear faint laughter and yelling. 

I wondered how many people were in this group. The last group Prim and I had been in was Snow’s group, and his camp contained upwards to a hundred people. If this group was anything like Snow’s, Prim and I would have to steal some supplies and leave. I could not put Prim in any more danger then I already had. “Katniss!” I turned towards the sound of Prim’s voice, panic spreading throughout me. 

“You have to come with me!” She appears before me.


	2. Killing

"So Katniss, how long have the two of you been wandering?" Beetee asks. I take a moment to answer, chewing slowly on the cooked rabbit Annie had grilled. I know the group is waiting for an answer, but I take my time anyways, savoring every bite.

"Since maybe January." Prim answers for me. Prim had pulled me into the crowded living room when I first walked in, introducing me to what looked like the entirety of the group. There was Beetee, whose dark skin gleamed with sweat despite the chill in the air, and would continue to wipe his glasses with his dirty grey shirt every ten minutes. Annie, who shook my hand feverishly and even tried to hug me, sat us down immediately onto the black couch, and quickly ran to the kitchen to give us what was left of their dinner from the night before. She had seemed a little spacy to me, but Prim was enamored with Annie's long cushy brown hair, and whenever I turned towards her, seemed to pulling on her thin blonde pigtails. I wondered how she even kept it healthy to still look so nice. Haymitch, the drunk, sat in the recliner opposite of me and nursed his beloved bottle of clear alcohol. His clear gray eyes would switch from staring at my face to Prim's. Mags' gray hair shone in whatever was left of the evening sunlight through the window, and her kind face brightened with her toothless smile. I decided I liked her immediately. Peeta's brothers stood off to the side with a heavier man, his sweaty blonde hair clinging to his forehead, pointing at a map and drawing. I think he said his name was Plutarch. Johanna, a slight girl around my height and short spiky hair, sat on the floor, fiddling with the laces on her boot. She had glared at me when I walked in, and made sure that I saw the axe she brandished. A short woman, who looked much cleaner than the rest, introduced herself as Effie and that she was very, very, very happy to meet us both.

"You survived until this long? Where are you originally from?" Beetee asks again. I suppose he is shocked that two young girls managed to survive with a small amount of their humanity left. I wonder how too.

"Pennsylvania." I offer.

Peeta and Finnick walk in to the room, and Finnick steps over to Haymitch. It's the first time I've seen the man remotely interested in anything. He grunts to whatever Finnick tells him, and I watch Peeta start to shut all the boarded windows and pulls down curtains. I catch his eye and he stares back at me, while shutting the window Mags stood near, almost hitting her. He breaks eye contact when Mags hits him playfully, and apologizes profusely. She touches his hand and smiles sweetly at him, and he returns the gesture. He looks up again and smiles softly. I look somewhere else, uncomfortable with his eyes on me. I notice the small chatter had died down in the room and the energy had turned tense. Haymitch starts to stand, and Plutarch moves by his side.

"There's a pack of zombies coming from the south side of the house. Finnick and Peeta had gone to retrieve some firewood a little further into the woods when they heard the groans from a few yards away. Now we have _some_ time before they are close," He offers, reassuring some of the tense glances. "Annie, turn off the stove, and give whatever gas we have left to Finnick. Johanna, make yourself useful for once and close the windows upstairs. You, Catnip, Katniss, whatever," Haymitch points to me. "Go with Plutarch. He'll show where to put that monstrosity." He nods at my bow. I clutch it a little tighter, and glare at him when he turns towards Beetee.

"Is the fence ready?"

Beetee shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. We need more wire, and some more steel poles for enforcement." He takes his glasses off yet again, just barely cleaning them. "It's too big of a project when we don't have the means to get more supplies." Haymitch sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. Plutarch motions for me to come with him, and starts to move out into the hallway. I pick up my bow and sheath of arrows and side step Johanna and Mags who had started to move. Finnick was in the process of shutting every door and window, and Peeta was moving around furniture to block the entrances into the house. As if he could sense me staring at the back of his head, he turned towards me and smiled softly, and nodded towards where Plutarch was standing, telling me silently to go upstairs and to trust him. I couldn't stand to look at his smiling face when I have been nothing but rude to him so far, but Peeta understood.

We both have people to protect.

I follow Plutarch up the wooden stairs, a red and white carpet runner running down it for grip. It wasn't nailed down so I assumed that maybe the group had put it down for Mags, so she wouldn't slip, or maybe even for Haymitch. I almost bump into Plutarch's somewhat portly body at the top of the stairs, and I wrinkled my nose. I wonder how he could have even kept a small percentage of body fat in these lean times. Plutarch was taller than me, and turned his profile towards me, raising a blonde eyebrow, his forehead scrunching up towards his hairline. I looked back at him with defiance. I wasn't willing to be looked over as a weakling with no fighting chance.

"Into this room, if you don't mind." Plutarch ushers me into a small office with plain walls, only maps of the surrounding areas and highways, where the infected have taken over, and what has still been claimed as human property, and a simple wooden desk, with two chairs opposite each other. Maybe this was their war room, used to plan battles with the undead, and possibly the living. A window behind the desk showed the east side of the house, and I could barely see a small garden of vegetables and other plants a short distance away. I was enthralled with the open space of the land, still looking for any strange rustling of the leaves from the forest, a sign that Eaters were near. Plutarch clears his throat, and sits down in his chair, and motions for me to take a seat as well. I sit down hesitantly, my thighs screaming. Prim and I had walked so much without rest, that now even sitting was difficult on the body. Plutarch writes something quickly on a small journal I hadn't noticed he pulled out, his hand flourishing with scribbled writing. He continues to write when he finally talks to me.

"Katniss right? Last name?"

"Everdeen." He still writes in his journal.

"Well Katniss, we don't take new people often into the group, just a precaution, so I'll have to ask you some questions." I was wary of what he may ask, but it began to put my mind at ease. When we had joined Snow's group, he took us in, no questions asked. The fact that Plutarch and the rest of the group were taking initiative calmed me. They were just as cautious as me when it came to strangers.

"First, I need to know if you have any skills. You and your sister need to earn your keep. A good archer perhaps?" He raises his eyebrows towards my bow, which I gripped a little tighter.

"I'm pretty good," I confess. If I need to earn my keep then so be it. It keeps Prim safe.

"Any particular fighting skills? Martial Arts?"

"No."

"Ever tracked any deer?"

"A few times."

He smiles at me. "Good. All we have are various guns and knives, and Johanna's axe. Finally, ammo that can be reused." He mutters the last part to himself. "And your sister? What skills does she have?"

"She's good with a knife, but she's better with medicine. She's a mini apothecary." I indulge him. I've started to let my guard down, and in any case, if we wanted to stay here, we would have to prove ourselves worthy of the pace. Plutarch smiles even wider, showing me all his teeth. His gums were starting to turn a little purple and some of his teeth in the back were turning an alarming yellow. I run my tongue over my teeth, self-conscious of how filthy they felt.

"One more question, Katniss." He leans in then, squinting his eyes at me, looking me up and down. "Have you ever killed a man?"

"Uh, well there certainly are a lot of them to take down-"

"No, no I don't mean the zombies. Everyone who has survived this long in our new world has killed a zombie. What I mean is, have you killed a man?"

"…Why do you need to know?" my voice is hoarse all of a sudden.

"We don't live in a safe world anymore. We constantly have zombies at our feet, and humans at our neck. The only people who have survived this terror now are sociopaths, murderers, rapists, hell even cannibals have made it. We need to protect ourselves from them. We are decent people Katniss," He reasons. "We all had lives before this. None of us would have even dreamed we would end up here, defending ourselves from two different monsters.

He takes a breath before continuing. "But these are different times. We must do our duty to stay safe."

I'm hesitant to answer him, because I honestly don't know what to say. He waits for my answer patiently, waiting to scribble down whatever vomit comes out of my mouth onto his crisp notepad. I can barely see that he has written down brief, physical descriptions of what Prim and I looked like and our possible ages. He guessed right with me, placing me around seventeen, but Prim looks so small that he guessed she was around eleven, when really she turned thirteen back in humid August. I strain my eyes to make out what he has written. _Both small, the blonde much shorter, possibly ten-eleven? Looks too gentle, but is confirmed to be good with a small weapon. Would do good with Annie. Katniss –same height as Jo, tan skin, black hair. Seventeen? Confirmed hunter, could do well in Defense._

I struggle with the words on the tip of my tongue, but finally I am able to spit them out. "Yes."

"How many?"

"…at least fifteen." He nods and gives me a look of approval. I don't know what test I have passed, but killing people seems to be necessary for most groups now. He is finishing up his notes when he speaks again.

"We're done here. I'll show you to the sniper post for tonight's takedown. Our goal is to make the packs that roam around here smaller and easier to take down if we accidently run into some in the woods. Welcome to the group, Katniss." We both stand and he moves to shake my hand. I give mine, and try to give a firm grip to seem a little stronger then what I really am. I look down at the last bit of notes that Plutarch wrote in his journal.

_Confirmed killer._

***

An hour later, the entire group is waiting for the pack of zombies to arrive. Plutarch assigned me to Defense with the Mellark boys, Finnick and Johanna, and also put me in the Hunting subgroup with Finnick. I wasn't pleased to find out that I'd be working so closely with Finnick in both of my assigned roles, but Plutarch assured me that while Finnick can come across as a gross frat boy, he is actually very nice and respectful. Plutarch gave the news to Prim that she would be in the Healing group, with Annie and Mags, where she would learn more about different medicines we came across. Annie explained that she had been an RN before The End started, so she was very familiar with treating different types of breaks, factures and open wounds. Prim was delighted to work with Annie, or her hair, and both Annie and Mags were equally excited to be with Prim as well. Annie even asked if Prim would be okay working with her, Mags and Effie in the kitchen sometimes too, and Prim just about exploded with happiness. I smiled at the thought of Prim already being so loved by people she just met hours ago. It wasn't surprising, Prim had always been the preferred Everdeen sister with her pretty little smile and sunny personality, and she hadn't been happy in such a long time that I was starting to regret arguing with her if we should join this group or not.

"So…nice weather, huh guys?" Finnick tries to make conversation while we wait on the second floor balcony outside with our guns. I had never fired a gun before, that was my father's weapon after he gave his bow to me, so Plutarch agreed easily to me using my bow, he even encouraged it. "Whatever saves ammo," He grinned when I explained my dilemma.

"It's freezing asshole." Marcus zips up his jacket and turns the safety on his gun off. He adjusts the black aviator sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose. I didn't understand why he was wearing sunglasses in early November, but maybe it was the bright orange setting sun getting to him. I burrowed down further in my bloody fleece jacket with my father's hunting jacket on top, holding tight onto my bow, my arrow nocked and ready to fly.

"You're such a wuss MarASS, you can't even handle a sunset without those damn shades." Finnick grins while everyone else chuckles, Marcus stroking his chin and laughing. I smile, which turns out more like a grimace, and turn back towards the woods. The groaning from the woods was starting to become a little closer now. I'm well aware that I look suspicious to them, or at the very least, ungrateful.

"You ever seen an Appalachian sunset?" Peeta comes and rests his elbows on the balcony. I glance at him at the corner of my eye, and see that he's not looking at me, but rather the setting sun in the sky and the brilliant waves of orange, reds and pinks swirled around, just hints of the light blue underneath peeking out. I can see the tops of the Blue Ridge Mountains and their misty peaks in the distance. I looked towards Peeta again, and he's smiling now, gently, as if it was his last night he'll ever see such a thing again. I'm drawn to the dark blue of his eyes, and how gently they blink, his blonde eyelashes resting against his pale cheeks. I break out of my reverie and stare towards the woods again.

"Never had the chance to appreciate one." I had seen plenty ever since we crossed the West Virginia border, but there was never any chance to stop and actually _look_ , since we were always running, always hiding.

You start to appreciate your own life more and more each day.

We stand in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the others laugh and make jokes. I suppose Peeta wasn't a person to sit in silence when half the world was quiet when he finally started to speak.

"You don't talk much."

"…There's no reason to."

"…Are you regretting coming with us?" I'm shocked and I kick myself on the inside for letting my stubbornness getting to me. I never thanked the Mellarks for being kind enough to save my ass and bring Prim and I back to their home. I knew it was my scowling that probably showed my displeasure, but he should have picked up that I was wary and ready to run at any time.

"No!" I hastily try to form words. "It's not that, I….I just have a hard time with new people." He smiles at my explanation, like he was relieved that I actually just had resting bitch face instead of not liking it here. I was confused to why he was so worried if I liked it here anyways.

"…Thank you for saving my life today. And Prim's." I whisper. The sky was getting darker and the moans louder. The rustling in between the trees starts to become more and more aggressive, and we can see the first wave of Eaters coming. Suddenly I am terrified of where Prim is. This is the first time we have actually sat down to fight instead of keep moving and I felt like a sitting duck, and my baby sister a lamb waiting for slaughter. Peeta grabs my wrist all of a sudden, as if he could sense what was wrong and I turn towards him, ready to move into the house to run with Prim.

"They're on the second floor, everything has been locked and boarded up on the first floor. Plutarch and Haymitch are sniping from his office window. They're fine. Relax, breathe." He tells me smoothly, squeezing my hand. My eyes flicker everywhere on the lawn, freaking out. I start to breathe a little heavier, going into complete panic mode. I feel someone walking behind me to my other side and they rub my back in small circles, willing me to calm down and get ready to fight.

"Shh, It's okay. She's safe here. You're safe here." A gruff, female voice says to me. I hadn't heard a word out of Johanna's mouth yet and I was too intimidated by the nasty look on her face that she gave to me all throughout our initial meeting. Her short inky back hair was tied back in a very small ponytail, and she was only a couple of inches taller than me. She had an upturned nose, giving her a haughty appearance, especially paired with her high cheekbones and pointed brown eyes. If Annie was beautiful, Johanna was striking. Striking and intimidating. I was not expecting her to comfort me through a panic attack. I breathe easier, and Johanna and Peeta take their positions, raising their guns. I look around at everybody else to see that their guns are raised too, waiting to strike down any zombies. Finnick sees me looking and gives me a concerned look, raising his eyebrows and mouths "Okay?" I nod back at him, and finally raise my bow to my cheek.

The first wave of them are slow and bloated, and we can smell their last meal from up here. It's Johanna who shoots first, hitting one in the shoulder. "Dammit," She mutters, finally striking it in the middle of the forehead. All around me I hear gunshots aiming everywhere, the shells piling at our feet. I let my arrow fly and watch it land in the eye of a female Eater, close to one of the trucks nearby. I grab three arrows from my quiver and nock one quickly, shooting a zombie and repeating the process. I always aim for the eyes because it was such soft tissue anyways that I can get a guaranteed kill from it, and the arrows pulled away with less blood then in the middle of their foreheads. More Eaters start to pour from the woods, and it was probably because of the amount of noise we were making. Most of the zombies had figured out where the noise was coming from, and they walked in our direction, arms reaching out towards us, hungry for flesh before they were finally killed. I figured that's why the cars were arranged as a border for the house, so the zombies couldn't get past the cars and bang on the windows or the doors. This was much easier on us to kill them from a safe distance, and not where they bite off any of our fingers if they were right at the doorstep. I had to admit that it was a brilliant tactic, and if my dad was here, he would laughed and shot a zombie in the face. I load another arrow and aim it towards a particularly nasty zombie. Most of its face was torn off and all that was left was the rotting bone underneath, blood leaking from whatever was left of its rotten yellow teeth. I take a deep breath, and send my arrow to its target. It pierced its forehead, which was good enough, but I grimaced anyways.

"Damn Everdeen, that was amazing," Leo whistles. I wasn't aware that the gunfire had stopped, I just had to hit the last few in the yard. Marcus pats my back heavily and goes inside, ducking beneath the door. Johanna starts to move inside before I stop her.

"Hey..um thanks for helping me before," I sputter out. I figure she'll say no problem, or something along those terms, but instead she sneers at me.

"Whatever."

She goes inside and slams the door shut, the door rattling with the force. I was confused on why she even bothered to help calm me down in the first place if she was planning on being so rude anyways.

"Don't worry about her, we all have bets if she's bipolar or not," Finnick jokes, opening the door carefully. "Hope you can wake up early tomorrow, we're going hunting!" He offers a high five, ecstatic. I give it to him, it's the least I can do, and I have to reach a little bit for his outstretched hand above my head. He laughs and ruffles my hair before going inside where the others are, talking about today's events.

It was just me and Peeta again. I make no move to go inside, I need to sit and clear my head with fresh air over what conspired today, and the more I think about it, the more it seems like some type of horrible nightmare I'm stuck in. I sink down to my feet and cross my legs Indian style before leaning against the wall, sighing deeply. Peeta sits next to me as well, staying quiet. We remain silent for about ten minutes, until Peeta starts to speak.

"You shouldn't worry about Jo," he begins, looking towards the woods and huddling in his jacket. I had the strangest urge to sit closer to him and keep warm. "She can be kind of bitchy," he offers.

"Kind of?" I scoff.

"She's protective," He says. "Extremely."

"We can all understand that." I say, closing the topic. I stare at the trees ahead of me, wondering what sort of animal life lives among them. My dad would always point out the birds living in the trees when we first left home, teaching me all their bird songs and calls. He had already taught me and Prim what plants to pick and what to avoid before The End had started, and his precious plant book meant everything to me now. It was half the reason Prim and I had survived all the way to November by ourselves, and I felt my eyes water when I imagined running my fingers against the yellowing pages of the book, lightly going over my father's beautiful handwriting, the same half print, half cursive that I inherited from him. I'm so drawn into my thoughts that I don't even realize he has asked me something until I feel him looking at me expectedly.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I said, how do you do it?"

"Do what?" I said, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Survive."


	3. Judging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of names, and Katniss' paranoia comes into play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter at the moment, life has been a little crazy right now. Please leave a review!

I am still staring at Peeta when the rain starts to pour down. We’re protected by the roofing above our heads on the balcony, but rogue raindrops fell against our legs while we sat, huddled on the wall behind us. I was aware of how close we had sat next to each other, and the energy between us was tense. 

“…You do what has to be done.” I finally answer him. His eyes widen for a quick moment, but he seems to realize what I mean. He doesn’t say anything and averts his eyes from mine and towards the woods. The rain water brought out the earthy smell of the dirt below us, overpowering the stench of corpses strewn throughout the yard. I wonder how many living people died under Peeta’s hand, or how many he spared. I studied his face a little longer, his straight nose a line sloping down towards his puckered pink lips, with just the smallest of cracked skin lining the top of them. He’s picking at the scabs that cover his hands and fingers, bringing one of them bleed slightly. He wipes the blood off gently on his pants, and tries to pick off the rest of the skin. I talk before I can stop myself. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” He looks up at me, a blank look covering his face. “You’ll leave scars.” I whisper. He laughs gently, and continues to pick at it, finally succeeding in removing a small piece of skin. 

“I’ve had these since I was young, I always tear at them.” He says. I say nothing, thinking that he has more to add. “I burned my hands once trying to remove some burned bread from the ovens at our bakery when I was eleven. My mom insisted that it was my fault and slapped me.” He closes his fist, blood leaking through his fingers from his bloody scabs. I would never have guessed that this kind boy would have ever been slapped by anyone in his life, he’s so likeable. I think briefly that my father would have liked him, he always had good intuition on who to trust. “She was one of the first to go in our town.” He admits. He looks like he is going to say something else, but can’t. He decides to change the topic instead. 

“She was from Boston, my mom. So when she gave birth to me, the nurse asked her what my name is. She wanted a girl after two boys, so my name would have been Petra, but she decided on Peter instead. The nurse thought she said ‘Peet-a’ from her Boston accent though,” He laughs now. I smile and quietly laugh. He had such an unusual name that I wondered the origins of it. “My mother was so furious when she found out. It was bad enough that I was another boy, now I had some weird ass name. She was always an angry woman though, always had something to yell at me for.” He ends, his eyebrows furrowing. I’m conflicted on what to do. Should I comfort him, as repayment for saving Prim and I, or do I ignore his ramblings as just the venting of an emotionally tired man? He shakes his head, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go into all that. I was just remembering.” He whispered now, suddenly feeling upset. I could see his eyebrows furrow and his mouth fighting to stay in a straight line, refusing to frown. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how, or what I would even say to him. All I can do is make everything worse. A story bubbles on my lips, but I try to fight it. It may comfort him, maybe even make him laugh, but I’ve only known him for a day and why should I tell this strange, blonde boy moments from my childhood? In the end, I finally decide that I can be truthful to him for one story. 

“My father named me after this strange water tuber, Katniss tubers,” I start. “He loved botany, so every living thing in our house was named after a flower or a plant,” I smile at the thought. “When we left our house after all , _this_ happened,” I gesture towards the corpses on the ground, “He told me as long as I can find myself in a pond, we’ll never starve.” Peeta smiles at my retelling, but his face turns grim.

“Did your dad….you know?” He nods his head towards the zombies lying on the ground, wondering if my father is somewhere out there, looking for a raw meal while his daughters ran as far away from him as they could. I shake my head. 

“No…he died human.” I whisper.

“So did mine.” He whispers also.

I don’t have the courage to tell Peeta that my father died because of me.

***

Since we had already eaten dinner before we took care of the Eaters in the yard, everyone had a little freetime to do as they please. When Peeta and I walked back into the house, he informed me that since it was getting dark, they’ll burn the zombies in the morning and retrieve my arrows as well. They didn’t want any surprise attacks in the night as they took care of their business.

“Won’t the zombies just be attracted to the fire?” I ask him.

“Yea, but we gather the bodies in the pick-up truck and drive them far enough away from the house so that they walk into the fire. They burn easily.” He explains. That may be easy, but I still thought it was a stupid plan, and it won’t exactly kill them, only weaken them and char them to a boned crisp. 

Prim was sitting on a sleeping bag, looking at our photo album in the room we now shared with Mags. Annie, Effie and Johanna shared one room, and Mags took us under her wing. The boys slept across the hall, three to a room as well. Haymitch was the only one to sleep downstairs. I closed the door, and went to sit down next to Prim, grabbing a comb from her bag, and moving to comb her wet hair. She sighed softly and moved her head into my lap as I brushed her soft blonde hair into a braid.

“How was your shower?” I ask.

“Amazing. They even have hot water!” She hums. 

“At least you don’t stink anymore,”

“Haha.”

We are quiet for a few minutes, listening to the rambles outside in the hallway. I can hear Finnick laughing loudly at something one of the Mellarks said. 

“I’m sorry I forced your hand this morning in the woods,” Prim starts to apologize. “I know you didn’t want to join any groups after Snow-” I cut her off before she can continue.

“It’s alright Prim, we were in a bad place,” I offer. I know Prim feels bad for putting us back in a group dynamic, but the truth really was that if we didn’t join them, we probably would have ended up dead within a week. 

“Do you trust them?” She asks me. I part her hair and start to braid it. 

“Somewhat.”

Mags walks in at that moment and smiles sweetly at us. She is holding something behind her back but I can’t tell what. I start to feel suspicious at her actions. Of course they would use the sweet, old woman trick to kill us off. I don’t have any of my blades on me, so if she is trying to attack us, I’ll just have to use brute strength. Just when I start to move Prim’s head to stand up, Mags pulls out a white plate filled with chocolate chip cookies on it. The aroma fills the room, and the guilt starts to fill my heart. 

“Cookies! Oh my goodness!” Prim jumps up and hugs Mags, her half braided hair coming apart. Mags chuckles and hugs her back tightly. I feel terrible that I could have misjudged Mags so badly, that I thought she was caring a knife behind her instead of a plate filled with sweets. I suppose Mags catches the guilt on my face and comes up to me, handing Prim the plate of cookies and squeezes both of my arms. She smiles widely at me, and I can’t help but smile back, albeit sadly. She nods her head ‘no’ and points towards me. I don’t have the slightest clue of what she is trying to say, so she lifts one finger to me and leaves to grab something off her desk. I recognize it as a whiteboard and marker, and she erases her old comment on it and starts to write a new one. She comes back in front of me and shows me what she has written. 

‘Don’t feel sad. You are scared.’ I nod my head like I did when I younger, when I had been caught doing something bad. I feel the urge to cry because I am so paranoid all the time and I don’t want to be, but I have to in order to survive. Mags wipes off what she has written and starts to write something else. 

‘Eat. Will feel better.’ 

Mags sits me down onto the small twin bed and motions for Prim to sit with us. Prim hands her the plate of cookies and Mags takes one and forces it into my hand. She motions for me to eat, smiling when I hesitantly nibble on the edge. I haven’t had anything sweet besides half rotten fruit in almost a year, but the cookie was one of the most delicious things I had ever tasted. Hints of cinnamon and bits of chocolate chips melted slowly in my mouth along with the oatmeal texture of the cookie. I didn’t even know chocolate chips were still available to find. Prim takes one too and moans loudly. I see a shine in her clear blue eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, and I know now that our decision to join this group was the right one. 

“Mags,” Prim starts, crumbs falling out of her mouth when she stuffs another cookie in her mouth. “Did you make these?” 

Mags shakes her head and laughs quietly, a raspy sound that always grabs your attention. She grabs her whiteboard and writes something in her loopy cursive. 

‘Peeta.’

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I've personally never read Everlark set in the apocalypse, and I wanted to read one, so I started to write this :P
> 
> I would be so grateful if you left a review!


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